


Rose Among Thorns

by Mustachioedmoose



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), this is how i dealt with the hurt of learning what edward's canon story was
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustachioedmoose/pseuds/Mustachioedmoose
Summary: Loss can change a man. Edward Kenway is no exception - pain is all he knows after his dear friend, Mary Read, passed away. He draws comfort from Mary's sister, but she suffers from her own world of hurt. They both have lost nearly everyone they loved, but do they still have each other?





	Rose Among Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, here I am with some more fandom nonsense. I started writing this...oh god, years ago, when I was madly in love with Edward, and this is how I coped with the pain of learning how Ubisoft dealt with ending Edward's story. You'll see what I mean. Out of all the fandom nonsense fics Ive written, this is probably one I'm most uncomfortable posting, because I'm not super happy with how I wrote out the beginning part all those years ago. But...here we go anyway.

It wasn’t that Edward felt any love towards Elizabeth.

Or maybe he did. Maybe he always had. He could hardly tell anymore.

Without a doubt, she was a beautiful young woman. Her red hair shone, and when she smiled and laughed, her blue eyes lit up with joy.

It was just that, even at only twenty years old, she reminded him so much of her older sister, Mary Read.

She was an Assassin, like Mary. She had adopted a man’s name and clothing to hide her identity, like Mary. And really, that was where the resemblances ended. Elizabeth was tall, full-chested, with a deep, throaty voice, where Mary had been petite with a boy’s voice. But he couldn’t shake Mary’s face from his head.

He pondered on this as he lay in his bed, his naked, sweat-drenched flesh pressed to Elizabeth’s in the Inagua heat, listening to her breathe as she slept beside him. He supposed that it had been the grief they’d shared over her sister’s death, when she’d pulled him into a secluded corner of a dock as he searched for her, that had urged him to step forward and embrace her. It had been grief that had told him to kiss away each of the tears falling from her eyes, which were suddenly a brighter blue than he had ever seen them, cup her cheeks tenderly in his hands, and then press her trembling lips into his. It had been grief that had made him nod in agreement when she asked him in a broken voice if he wanted to come back to her room at the small inn on the island, but instead, he took her hand and pulled her along towards the manor house on the hill.

They had snuck back there in the dark of dusk like rats afraid of being caught in lantern light. They’d torn off each other’s clothing like wild animals; Elizabeth’s dress lay on the floor, torn clean in two, a heap of blue silk and tattered cotton, the hiss of her frustration as she fumbled with the buckles on his jacket arousing him further. He’d ravaged her mouth, biting down on her neck and shoulders when she’d taken him in her hands, reveling in the cries and moans that rolled out of her silky throat. He’d pleaded with her to suck on him and she’d greedily obliged. He’d heaved her onto the bed when it became too much (how was it such a girl, an Assassin no less, came by such talent?) and returned the favor until she was rippling and moaning in desire. They’d fucked like dogs in the street, scratching, pulling, grinding against each other to drive the grief away until, finally, she fell over the edge, and the sweet sensation of her warmth contracting around him heaved him over too and he pulled away and spilled it over the skin on her lily white belly.

They held each other for quite a long time afterwards. Elizabeth drifted off to sleep, having spent her last ounce of energy, but Edward lay awake, studying her face. A child’s face, really. Right? It hadn’t been so long ago when he’d grudgingly helped Mary teach her swordplay and how to manage a boat, her long legs even skinnier in boy’s trousers. Even so, twenty was not a child’s age and he could see traces of Mary in her. She had that same sly, calculating look in her eye, like she could see right into the depths of his soul and was laughing about it. She could fight and sail a boat as well as any man, had even bested him in a handful of practice fights. Smart as a whip, clever as a fox. Whereas he preferred to charge in guns blazing (which had earned him his reputation as the Devil), she, like Mary, was quiet as a shadow and preferred to slip by unnoticed, and that was what had made her a deadly pirate and Assassin.

But Lord on high, she could dance. This was not a skill he usually associated with Assassins, but two years previously in the heat of the summer, he’d watched her dance by the firelight as his and Mary’s crews played shanties and Spanish ballads in a rare night of rest (for Mary’s men, at any rate). The heat made it so everyone in the island was down to their undergarments; even at night, sweat had made their skins slick and shiny. He’d been watching her casually, a half-full bottle of rum in his hand and his head starting to spin a bit, when he noticed all of a sudden how the light from the bonfire played on her skin, how her hips swayed in time to the music. His loins beginning to stir, he’d made to get up from his place in the sand to ask her to come away with him when he’d felt a hand tighten on his shoulder. It was Mary, who’d then whispered to him that if he wanted to keep his balls, he’d stay away from her Elizabeth. He’d immediately lain back down. Threats from Mary were never idle.

That had been that. From that day forward, he’d seen Elizabeth as a sort of younger sister, not as the beautiful, blossoming young woman he’d laid eyes on that night. But now, despite the pain roiling up in his stomach like sea water, he could finally separate her from Mary. 

That peace didn’t last very long. He’d left to go to the pub to drown himself before Elizabeth had had chance to wake. In the drunken stupor he fell into, Roberts, Thatch and Hornigold mocked him, and Mary and Caroline chastised him for his want of fortune. When he finally awoke, he felt as though his head had been filled with swords and someone was shaking it, but he saw a most welcome face swimming above him: Adewale.

Turns out his quartermaster was leaving the Jackdaw to pursue the Assassins’ cause. Not terribly fair, Edward thought. But before Adewale left, he’d asked him to meet him at the Assassin’s hideout in Tulum to find his answers.

“And I would take care to find your mate Elizabeth while you’re there, breddah,” Ade added with a knowing wink. “She took care of your stinkin’ arse while you were out but had to leave for Tulum before you woke and I think you owe her a bit of thanks, eh?”

So Edward departed for Tulum as soon as the pain in his head subsided. It took all of four days to sail there with a nice westerly breeze at their backs. Elizabeth was standing on the docks waiting for him and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw her red hair shining. It was with a great and unfamiliar humbleness that he approached her, noting guiltily the purple-and-black bruise just beginning to fade around her left eye. He asked about it after exchanging a sheepish hello, and grimaced when she told him in a rather short voice that he’d punched her when she’d found him prostrate on the beach and tried to turn him over and take the bottle of rum out of his hand.

“Look, Liz, I’m so-“he began, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“It doesn’t change a thing, Edward,” she said through gritted teeth, her gaze off into the horizon a stony one.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he implored as he took her hand, which he noted, also with a twinge of guilt, had cracked and bloody skin.

“Help us clean up the mess you made six years ago.”

“What do you mean?”

Elizabeth sighed and began walking towards the Assassin compound in the jungle. “Come on. Ah Tabai will explain.”

The mess with the Templars was finally cleared up, though how long the peace would last, no one knew. Immediately, Edward began searching for Elizabeth. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the fight began, stealthy and cunning as she was. He hoped she was all right…. Ah Tabai caught him first before he could begin looking in earnest for her. In the conversation that followed, Edward pledged his loyalty to the Assassin cause, but in truth, he was only half listening, as much as he was eager to make up for the mistakes he’d made all those years ago. At last, there he spotted her on the crest of a hill, nearly hidden amongst the foliage if not for her shock of red hair. As he took his leave from the Assassin mentor and climbed up nearer, he was surprised to find that instead of Elizabeth, it was Anne Bonny. He hadn’t noticed her join the fight at all. Last he’d heard, she was still recovering from giving birth to a stillborn son. While he was glad to see that she felt well enough to walk about, it was a tad awkward standing there, knowing of the pain she must have been feeling but unable to comprehend its depth. She’d lost her greatest friend, her lover, and her child all in quick succession, and the best thing he could come up with to say was, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Anne accepted it, nodding her head. Edward noticed as he sat next to her, his back against the tree trunk, just how worn and tired she looked as she lamented the loss of all their friends. As she listed their names and how she missed them all, he felt a familiar and deep pang of sadness in his gut, the kind that had usually led him to the drink before. But she was right. Both of them had lost nearly everyone important in their lives. Mary, Thatch, Rackham, Vane…all of them, dead or in prison. And for what? Just a little while ago, Edward’s reason for existence was finding the Observatory to make a profit. Now, he felt like he had little reason for being, their lives swept asunder by greater, more powerful men, and it seemed Anne felt much the same way. The both of them had escaped the gallows by sheer luck, it seemed.

She had clasped his hand when he’d admitted that yes, he, too, felt an all-consuming hollowness nearly all of the time now. Such a small gesture nearly brought tears to his eyes. For a man so willing to throw away his life for something as fleeting as wealth, it hadn’t hit him until Mary’s death how lonesome it was to follow that path. Like Ben Hornigold had said, he’d found himself the only one walking his road. It was a small bit of relief to know that, even though Anne’s pain stemmed from different circumstances that he could not hope to fathom, they understood each other.

He felt her eyes upon him suddenly and saw that she was giving him a sad smile when he looked up at her. She nudged him with her shoulder, like she was hinting at something.

“You know, Edward” she began, her smile turning mischievous for a brief moment, “I don’t think Mary would’ve approved of what you’re doing.”

Color rose in Edward’s cheeks. He denied being aware of what she was talking about, but knew it was a fruitless endeavor. How she’d known about him and Elizabeth, he had no idea, but she’d clearly seen right through the ruse when she rolled her eyes with a shake of her head.

“All right, lass, all right” he groaned, rubbing at his eyes with one hand, “You caught me. I know Mary would’ve gutted me if she’d known. It just happened. Can you blame me?”

Anne chuckled at his obvious discomfort. “No, I suppose not,” she nodded. “If I’d been in any state to seek a man’s company, I’d’ve done the same, I think.”

Edward sighed quietly, the gentle huff of breath the only way to tell he was relieved that Anne didn’t outright disapprove of what had happened, because truth be told, he wanted it to happen again. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he was drawn to Elizabeth like a moth to lamplight – perhaps it was because they shared their grief, or perhaps he’d always lusted after her but had been unwilling to disrupt his friendship with Mary. Whatever the cause, she’d begun to steal his heart and he longed for her presence.

Almost as if on command, he saw her, almost like a mermaid from his crew’s tales, walking along the beach from the north. As though she had sensed his gaze, she stopped and turned to face him, though he found it unlikely that she could see him from such a distance. All the same, he felt that his heart stopped in his chest until she had turned away and began to walk again. He felt Anne nudge him with her elbow as he continued to watch Elizabeth.

“Go after her, you great dolt,” Anne chided gently, that same knowing smile on her face. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he got to his feet and descended the hill. Dazed, he followed Elizabeth, noting with some confusion that she was boarding the Jackdaw. He saw her speak with Adewale at the end of the boarding plank for a moment and briefly embrace his old quartermaster, then climb aboard his brig. When he reached Ade, the other man shrugged and walked off, a knowing grin on his face, stating, “I know nothin’ n’ I’m not sayin’ nothin’.”

A hint of suspicion bit at Edward’s insides as he boarded his ship. Elizabeth was nowhere on the top deck, so he went down below. To say the least, the shock he felt when he found her undressing in his quarters was immense. Not to say that he minded… but he found himself a bit overwhelmed with the confusing and sudden change in her emotions. Though she refused to look at him, even when he said her name, her demeanor was just as hard and steely as her gaze had been on the hilltop; determined, one might even say. The shock continued when she strode over, still not meeting his gaze, naked as the day she was born, and rammed her lips into his. Fortunately, he was able to collect his bearings enough to pull himself away, since this was far from right, and it was but a moment later that her façade crumbled and her bottom lip began to tremble.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Edward, I’m sorry,” she whimpered as she clapped her hands over her face to hide her eyes. It was a strange sound coming from a woman usually so sly and sure of herself.

“Hey,” Edward murmured, “it’s all right. You’ll be all right, my dear Liz.” He wrapped his arm gently around her shoulders and placed his other hand on her arm to steer her towards the bed, wrapping the red silk sheet, a luxury plundered from a Spanish galleon, around her naked torso. He held her for quite some time as she seemed to be trying not to cry. He shared in her sadness, and to be quite honest, it was nice to feel the warmth of her skin through his jacket – it nearly drowned out the grief. His brow pressed to her temple, he rocked her a bit like he would a child, feeling just the slightest twinge of guilt when he inhaled her rather intoxicating scent and felt that familiar stirring in his loins despite himself. 

“Here,” he whispered, letting go of her just long enough to undo the buckles on his jacket so he could slip it and his shirt off. He slid into the rest of the sheets, unsure at first if this was a good idea, but she followed suit and to his great delight, she unwrapped herself from the one he’d slid around her shoulders earlier.

For the first time, he truly got to appreciate her for the young rosebud that she was. He’d been with many beautiful women in his lifetime, his wife Caroline certainly not the least among them, but Elizabeth was something special. Her skin was far from perfect, mottled with scars and bruises as it was. But that was what drew him to caress her, at least in part, his fingers tracing the evidence of old wounds. Her breasts were full and heavy, though they too bore permanent marks from repeated bindings so that she might adopt a man’s disguise. She was neither pale and delicate like Caroline, nor was she as dark and hardened as her older sister. She was a vibrant young woman without shame, without modesty, that even in her sorrow, she did not try to hide herself.

Lord, was she stunning.

He pressed his lips to her forehead to stop himself from touching her further. As beautiful as she was, the last thing he wanted to do was break her trust by forcing her. She was his friend, first and foremost, and anything else came after. He pondered on the fact that just a few short months ago, such a thought would never have entered his head. Seeing first hand, however, just how selfish he had been, and how much it had damaged those around him, had changed him. Really, he was just grateful that she was still by his side when everyone else had either died or abandoned him, even if it was only because she needed his comfort. It was nice to be needed. He’d never wanted to be needed so much in his life.

As the afternoon wore on into evening, Elizabeth finally broke down and cried properly. As he held her tightly to his chest, whispering comforts into her hair, Edward suspected that this was the first time she had truly aired her sorrow. He let her scratch at him and thump a fist against his ribs, so forceful was her anguish, her sobs racking her whole body. In a voice contorted by tears, she wailed about how she’d lost her entire family, how she should have been in prison with her sister and would have been had she not been on assignment with Ah Tabai, how the ship wouldn’t have been captured had she been there, how Mary would be alive had she been there. She howled that she had no one left to care for, not even her niece, who had been plucked from her sister’s arms almost the moment the babe had left Mary’s body.

No, Edward murmured, she still had him. She still had him….

The moon had risen by the time her crying stopped. The light shone bright and cold through the porthole window, emphasizing the numb expression that graced Elizabeth’s features as she lay sniffling next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, burying her face into the pillow, seemingly unable to say anything else as she hiccuped. He brushed her hair behind her ear, giving her a sympathetic smile, telling her it was all right. He peppered her face with sweet kisses to make her laugh, drawing a shy giggle out of her.

Content that she might have been drawn out of her sadness, if only for the moment, Edward rolled over onto his back, murmuring, “C’mere, love,” as he opened his arms to her. She accepted his invitation readily, adjusting herself so that her head lay in the crook of his neck, curling into his body like a child. He could feel her breath on his skin, the press of her breasts against his ribs. But instead of arousal, he felt his heart pull…well, he did feel the beginnings of an erection, though it was a bit embarrassing given the circumstances. Just for something else to think about, Edward decided off the cuff to ask her about what had happened between her and Adewale earlier that day.

“What do you mean?” she sniffled.

“Well…when you met on the dock this afternoon.”

“Oh… Oh!” she exclaimed, wiping gingerly at her swollen eyes, “He said he was joining the Brotherhood. I was welcoming him.”

“Have you ever…well…?” Edward wasn’t sure exactly why he was asking her what he was asking her. The jealousy that was suddenly eating at his insides was not an emotion he was used to or liked much, and it wasn’t as though he had a reason to be. But it kept driving his tongue anyway. She giggled shyly behind a fist as she caught his meaning.

“No,” she explained, “today was the first time I’d been very close to him at all. Mary always told me to stay away from him because he was too close to you, and she didn’t want me falling under your influence or something.

“He’s rather handsome, though,” she teased. The glare he shot her out of the corner of his eyes was withering, but he felt some modicum of relief knowing that his former quartermaster hadn’t tasted of her fruits behind his back.

“Charlie Vane was my first, you know.”

The shock Edward felt hearing that was incomparable to what he’d felt earlier when he’d found her undressing. Even though he could see her smiling through her fingers, like she’d said it just to get a rise out of him, lightening coursed through his body. His stare seemed to bring a fit of giggles out of her. He managed to collect his bearings a moment later and mock-pouted, which caused her to bury her face in the pillow again to smother her laughter. Serious now, though, he wondered if his old friend had treated her well, though he found it rather strange to think that he cared at all what Charles Vane did. He asked her.

“Yes,” she responded wistfully, “he was very gentle. Took his time and all. Made me laugh, that sort of thing.”

“When did it happen? How did he know you were…well…not as you dressed?”

She chuckled again at his awkward phrasing. “You mean how did he know I wasn’t Mary’s brother? I was sixteen, I think. He’d seen me bathing in a pool at night. Mary threatened to cut off his balls if he so much as looked at me again or said a word about it to anyone else. But one night, she left rather suddenly from the bar at the Avery. Charles was there. I was knackered. He asked if I wanted to come lie down. I think he let me sleep for awhile but I remember waking up later that very night and wanting to kiss him. He let me.”

“Did he force you?” Edward asked, suddenly quite worried, though taking note of the fact that even as a girl, she had been bold.

“No!” Elizabeth told him emphatically, shaking her head. “No. I’d been looking after him for quite awhile. I was young and stupid and quite taken with his charm.”

At Edward’s skeptical look, she added rather lamely, “He was rather charming if he wanted to be,” which made him laugh. He supposed that was true, though his old friend had been off his rocker from the beginning.

“Did you love him?” he asked in what he hoped was a light, nonchalant tone. For whatever jealous, insecure reason he had come up with, Elizabeth’s answer to this question was incredibly important. Her eyes narrowed on him for a moment, and he couldn’t tell if she was wondering why he would ask her such a thing or if she was trying to decide her answer and it made him uncomfortable. Whatever reason for her gaze, she broke it off a moment later and stretched next to him, yawning, and settled back in, looking up at the ceiling of his cabin.

“No,” she answered thoughtfully, giving a little shrug, “I don’t think so. He was kind to me, but me and him weren’t a good match, I don’t think, though I was sorry to hear what happened to him.”

Edward nodded. He supposed he agreed. Charles had always been instinctive, reactionary, whereas Elizabeth, like her sister, had always seemed to prefer caution over action. He supposed that was why they had been taken up by the Assassins, who also seemed to prefer waiting to doing. As much as this newfound jealousy wanted to keep drilling her for answers about her past exploits, when Edward looked over and saw that she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, his heart melted a little. He wasn’t sure what to call the emotion he felt rather strongly in his belly right then, but he decided as he kissed her forehead and settled into the sheets, after the long day they had both had, sleep was more important.


End file.
